The temperature continues to plummet, you run down an empty Brooklyn street in the middle of the night praying for a car but also laughing so that's what you'll remember. You were the best thing to happen to me in 2017 lingers in your eardrums, wraps itself around your drunken sleep, there's confetti stars on your eyelids and you part reluctantly with a year that's torn at your insides but strengthened your heartbeat and 2018 is cold and scary now but you are ready to make it grow you are ready to turn it
into
a
fucking
jungle
This pot is equal parts water
and gasoline.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment